November Rain
by Phoenix.G.Fawkes
Summary: Sequel to ‘Unwell’. Percy is still trying to find his purpouse in life, and an old face from his past might give him some answers.


**Disclaimer:** I think it's pretty obvious by now that I don't own anything, right?

**Summary:** Sequel to 'Unwell'. Percy is still trying to find his purpouse in life, and an old face from his past might give him some answers.

**

* * *

**

November Rain

November was, in Percy's humble opinion, the worst month of the year. Its gloomy darkness covered the city like a blanket, the temperature went from chilly to freezing and the streets were perpetuosly wet. It. Never. Stopped. Raining. It rained in the morning, it rained in the afternoon, and at night it rained a little more. And if there was one thing that Percy hated that was rain. No, definately November wasn't his favourite time of the year.

So when he arrived at work and Faith cheerfully announced that he had a mission, he growled mentally. That morning he'd hoped that he'd be able to stay inside, maybe clasifying the dozens of files that invaded his and Andrew's office, or perhaps checking the security spells of the building. But no: it was the coldest day in the year so far, and he had to be in the streets. It was simply not fair.

'Andrew is coming with me?' He asked, trying his best to sound unconcerned.

Andrew was one of the most friendly persons Percy had ever met, and they got on quite well, but he remembered that the last time they'd been together in a mission he'd almost got impaled by a very annoyed demon. Percy didn't want to think about the details of the whole thing right now.

'Nope, Perce, you're on your own'

Percy didn't know whether he should feel relieved or not. The ocassions when he had been sent alone on a mission had been very rare, with varied results.

'Here, boy. Wes' instructions'.

He took the piece of paper she was handing him and, with just one look at Wesley Wyndam-Pryce's neat handwriting, he knew why they were sending him on his own. Again, Percy had to repress another growl when he saw that his destination was a place he'd hoped he wouldn't see again anytime soon.

He was pulled out of his reverie by Faith's voice:

'So, Perce: Go there, get what we want, and get your ass back here as soon as you can. Gotcha?'

Percy nodded as he got his jacket. Faith gave him a small smile before turning away, and he couldn't help wondering what his first boss would think of his new one. Certainly, there couldn't be two people more different than Mr. Crouch and Faith. Mr. Crouch had shared Percy's love for rules and everything in his clothes screamed "traditional", while Faith seemed to believe that rules were meant to be broken (for heaven's sake, she'd escaped from a _muggle_ prison) and her leather trousers were...well, less conventional. Percy couldn't say, though, that he disliked the change. For one thing, Faith's trousers were much more attractive to his eyes than Mr. Crouch's spotless robes, even though he'd never admit that to any living soul. Especially not Faith's boyfriend.

On his way out he bumped into a girl, one of the Slayers-in-training.

'Hum, sorry', he mumbled, embarassed. The girl, who was quite pretty (and awfully young, so he'd better stop thinking like that), smiled at him.

'It's OK, Percy. How are you?'.

Percy searched frantically in his memory.

'Hum, quite well, thanks for asking...Vi.'

He gave her a nervous smile, and was relieved when she smiled back. She really got a nice smile. Even though she was only a couple of years older than Ginny. Which was completely beside the point.

'Are you going out on a mission?' She asked, with a hint of envy in her voice. Percy remembered she'd been one of the girls that had fought in Sunnydale, but he still couldn't get why she would feel envious.

'Yeah, that's right'.

She looked at his black denim jacket doubtfully.

'Hum, aren't you gonna need an umbrella?'

Percy smiled mysteriously.

'Not where I'm going'.

Percy walked down the way too familiar streets, shifting umcomfortably in his old robes. Definately, he'd got too used to _muggle_ clothes lately, as it was the perfect way to go unnoticed in London. But these days wearing _muggle_ clothes among wizards was nearly suicidal, with Voldemort's supporters killing people in broad sunlight.

There were few people wandering in the street, which was easy to explain: Nowadays most wizards and witches didn't fancy leaving the safety of their homes and, when they were forced to do so, they wisely chose to Apparate. Besides, the weather was not helping. _So here I am, with all Hogsmeade to myself. How lucky I am_. Thank God it was a Wednesday. Percy didn't think he'd have been able to tolerate it if the place had been packed with Hogwarts students. It would have brought too many memories, and right now he had enough to deal with without dwelling in the past.

He turned a corner and there it was: the filthy and dodgy hole were he had spent most of the last pitiful summer, drowning his sorrows in firewhisky. This was the place that had seen some of his worst moments, when more than once the idea of ending it all had came to his mind, and it was also the place he'd sworn he'd never set foot again once he'd decided to start a new life. An oath that, like many others Percy had made, was already broken. _Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the most classy inn in England... also known as the Hog's Head. We hope you'll enjoy your stay._

The pub looked like he remembered: the filthy windows, the floor covered in dust, the weird smell and, most especially, the gloomy darkness that filled the place. All it needed was a 'Welcome Back' sign.

The man Percy had to meet was nowhere to be seen, so he walked straight to the bar and ordered a butterbeer. The old bartender stared at him, as if he had spoken in other language, then turned his back on him and began to search for the right bottle. _Hell, it's good to be back_.

This time, he didn't chose the table at the corner, but one next to the door. In this business, you never knew when you had to flee. Besides...he really didn't want to go back there, especially not now, when things were slowly starting to make sense again. Very slowly, indeed, but at least he no longer spent his time staring at the nude walls of his apartment. Instead, he spent his days trying to translate Ancient Runes from dusty books, and visiting dodgy places like this one to meet ugly demons and bloodthisrty vampires. A hell of an improvement, no doubt.

However, as seconds turned into minutes and his contact didn't arrive, he scanned the area and his gaze was drawn to the table he had occupied for so many glum hours. To his own shock, someone was sitting at the table (_his_ table), the face half-hidden in the dark...but not hidden enough so Percy wouldn't recognize the familiar features.

He let out a small gasp. The person at the table looked up and glanced at him...then he froze. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He looked shocked, but sure enough he wasn't half as shocked as Percy was.

He couldn't have looked more different than Percy remembered him, but they had spent seven years of their life together, seeing each other daily, so there was no doubt about his identity. However, last time they had met he had been a rising star, with all a man could dream of: money, success, something like fame, a stunning girlfriend and the job of his dreams. Now, though, he looked like he'd been through hell. His clothes were a mess, he clearly hadn't shaved in a month and there were dark shadows under his eyes, that made him look several years older. He also seemed to have put on weight. In short...he looked like shit (and yes, he'd spent to much time in Faith's company lately, so what?).

In fact, for a moment Percy thought he might be wrong. This ruined man couldn't be the hyperactive boy he remembered from school. But no, there was no mistake: the man who was staring at him from the corner table was no other than Oliver Wood, the almost famous Quidditch player, with whom he'd shared a dorm for seven years. Of course, he hadn't looked like this when he was the captain of Gryffindor's Quidditch team and tried to convince Percy that the Chuddley Cannons would never win the league in this century.

Percy hesitated. Should he interrupt his former classmate's moment of misery and say hello? Or should he mercifully pretend he hadn't recognized him?

Fortunately, Wood answered that question himself by turning his back on him and staring at the bottle of firewhisky. Percy's shoulders relaxed. It was all right for him. After all, he had some experience at not wanting to be recognized.

Soon Percy thoughts drifted away from Wood, as the man he was waiting for finally showed up. Well, 'man' was actually an euphemism. Percy doubted human beings had purple skin and red eyes half-hidden under a hood that seemed to be made of dragon's skin. Percy frowned, trying frantically to remember Andrew's lessons about demons. Which kind of demon had purple skin, red eyes and liked to wear in dragon clothes? Threvals, perhaps? Whatever was it, he hoped they were the pacific kind. He'd already had a bad experience with a cannibal clan of demons, thank you very much.

Things didn't start too well, as the demon only had one half of the magical medallion Percy had been sent to get.

'Where's the other half?' Percy demanded. The demon shrugged.

'Don't have it here'.

Percy closed her eyes for a moment. 'Why would I want it, then? You can't make it work with just one half'.

A sly smirk twisted the demon's features. 'Well, in that case you'll have to give me more money, and I'll give you both pieces. Let's say...The double'.

The wizard bit his lower lip. He didn't have that sum of money and, anyway, Faith would kill him if he spent that much in "those freaky things only Wes can care about". Percy examined the ancient medallion (well, at least a part of it) that he had in his hand, and let out a sigh. 'In that case, sir, I'm afraid there's no deal'.

The demon's carmine eyes widened.

'No deal? Hold on a sec' He began to look nervous. 'Look, maybe I can make a special offer for you...'

'I'll only pay the sum of money we had arranged in the first place' Percy stood up, glancing at the demon from above. 'And that will only happen when I have the complete medallion in my hand'.

His purple contact gaped at him.

'You can't do that! Oh, no, no. Do you think you're the only one interested in this stuff? I'm sure I can get a better offer...'

Percy shrugged, trying to look casual.

'I doubt it, sir, as I'm taking this half of the medallion as guarantee'. And with that, he put the golden piece into his pocket and glanced back at the demon, who looked like he was going to have a heart attack. His eyes flashed scarlet and he stood up, too, which was quite an impressive move as he was much taller than Percy, who tried his best not to gulp. Now things were getting a little out of control...

'You're not going anywhere, filthy treacherous necromancer!' He hissed, hitting the table with a purple fist. Percy refrained a wince (_this bloke could snap me in two_) and even though he was getting quite scared (_let's face it, I'm freaking out_) he noticed that all eyes in the pub were now on them, even the bartender's, who moments ago had seemed too focused in an old _Daily Prophet_ to see notice a purple bloke had entered his inn. _Good. He can't kill me if there are witnesses..._

Please. This was the Hog's Head, and they were in the middle of a war. Besides, it was doubtful someone would miss him at all.

Tension filled the air, almost suffocating him, as the demon pulled away the table that separated them. Percy's hair stood up, and he was certain everyone in the room could hear his heartbeat. Despite this, he didn't move a muscle, except to raise his eyebrows.

'Sir, you won't obtain anything by hurting me, with the possible exception of a very painful curse' he stated, taking his wand out.

For a moment, it seemed that the demon was going to attack him anyway, but then a very human hand was placed on his shoulder and a familiar voice said:

'Hey, big one, I'd listen to him. His curses are pretty nasty.'

The demon turned his disproportionate head and stared at the dishevelled figure of Oliver Wood, who stared back. Percy was reminded of the look Oliver always had on his face every time Gryffindor lost a match.

The demon opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

'You're Oliver Wood, the Quidditch player?'

Percy blinked. OK, he hadn't been waiting that and, from the look on Oliver's face, he hadn't either.

'Umm...yeah, it's me'

'Oh, my little boy is a big fan of you' The demon exclaimed. 'He supports the Puddlemere United. A shame that you no longer play for them...'

A shadow darkened Oliver's face.

'Yeah, a shame'. Percy wondered if he'd been the only one who had noticed the bitterness hidden under the polite tone.

'Would you, um, sign me an autograph? It's for my child, you see'

Both Percy and Oliver stared at the two-meters-tall bloke, who was now twisting his hands nervously, a hopeful look in his ruby eyes.

Oliver blinked, then a fake smile curved his lips.

'Sure. You got a quill?'

Ten minutes later, Percy and the Barney-wannabe (yeah, he'd been watching _muggle_ TV, so what?) had arranged to meet in an hour to close the deal, and the wizard kept the half of the medallion, just in case. The demon didn't seem to mind that much: Percy doubted that what he'd said about other customers was true at all. Like Faith had said, who the hell could care about a way too old piece of gold but Wesley?

Well...Andrew could, if he was in a very, very bad day.

So Percy found himself out in the rain again (Merlin, he truly hated it), with none other than Oliver Wood by his side, as the bartender had kicked them both out (_"no curse threatening in here, laddies!"_).

'So, hum, how have you been?'

Oliver stared at him blankly.

'Like shit. What about you?'

'Pretty much the same, until very recently'. An awkward silence fell upon them. 'You know, I've got an hour to spare. You fancy going to the Three Broomsticks? If you're not busy, I mean', Percy blurted out, feeling quite silly. Oliver stared at him again, as if he was trying to decide whether he had been cynical or not.

'Why not?' He shrugged. 'I need a change of scenary'.

'But if it's Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood!' Madam Rosmerta exclaimed when she brought their drinks (no firewhisky, thank you very much). 'It's been a long while since I've last seen you both'.

True, it had been a long while, but not as long as Percy felt it had been. Last time he'd come here, he'd come to Hogwarts to take Mr. Crouch's place as one of the Triwizard Tournament's judges at the lake task. He'd been so happy that Mr. Crouch had entrusted him with something that important, he'd never suspected a thing. Always so foolish, always so willing to believe in his own capabilities and qualifications... It never came to his mind that Mr. Crouch had given him that assigment not because he trusted in his competence, but because he had had no other choice.

Yes, he'd been young and naïve. Back then, he still believed that he'd become the youngest Minister in history, he still had a girlfriend, he still had a family... He still had innocence.

Oliver let out a chuckle, and Percy stared at him. 'What?', he asked, bewildered. Oliver shrugged.

'It's just that, from all people, you were the last one I thought I'd find at the Hog's Head, y'know. It's kind of funny'.

Percy took a sip of his buttebeer. 'Well, I guess it'll surprise you even more knowing that I went there on a daily basis for two whole months to drown myself in firewhisky.'

Indeed, Oliver's eyes widened in a way that was almost comical. Almost.

'Oh' He managed to whisper. 'I guess then that I'm not the only one who thought in killing himself softly with cheap alcohol. Hell, I can't even be original at that'.

Percy raised an eyebrow at the bitterness of his tone. The Oliver he'd known hadn't been exactly cheerful (he'd been too obsessive for that) but he hadn't been bitter, either. Unless Gryffindor lost a match, then he turned suicidal. Percy knew that well as he'd shared the dorm with him long enough to find him trying to get drown in the bathtube after an especially lousy match.

Maybe this whole thing wasn't a good idea after all, Percy reflected as he saw how deflated Oliver looked. Had he looked that bad only a few months back?

Probably.

'Look, there's nothing to be ashamed of, see...' It took Percy a moment to realise that it was he the one who was talking. 'We all screw up sometime and we, hum, do things like that...' What the hell was he saying? Since when did he give advice to anyone about coping with own faults? Had he gone mad?

'In a nutshell, what you're saying is that I'm not even original at this whole thing of being unoriginal, aren't you?'

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity.

Then they both burst into mad laughter.

It was scary, really. Percy hadn't laugh like that in a long while. Hell, probably he'd never laughed like that in his whole life. He didn´t have much of a laughter, anyway. George used to say that Percy's laugh sounded like a fish out of water gasping for air. As if fish made any sound at all, which was not exactly the point of the whole thing.

After a few minutes, though, the laughter stopped and they stared at each other again, tears rolling down Oliver's face and Percy hiccuping.

'We're pathetic, aren't we?'

Oliver's comment led to some more giggling, which stopped when they noticed that many people were staring at them with weird looks on their faces. They still had enough shame to compose themselves and try to behave like grown-ups, or whatever they were now.

'So' Oliver said, after taking a gulp of his drink, 'how come you ended up in the Hog's Head?' After a pause, he added: 'If you spill your story, I'll spill mine'.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, then shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better to do and, besides, if Oliver couldnt understand his fall from grace then no one would.

In few sentences he resumed his pitiful story, at the end of which Oliver only nodded.

'Yep, just what I've thought: It's always our dreams what doom us'.

Percy stared at him, a little shocked at the seriousness of his tone. He chose his next words carefully.

'Why is it that you're no longer playing for Puddlemere United? I thought you were doing very well there'.

Oliver bit his lower lip, and he wondered if he'd gone a little too far. His former classmate didn't seem to have left yet the bottomless pit of depression he'd thrown himself into.

The ex-Quidditch player closed his eyes and, when he opened them, there was a look of resolve on his face.

'My story starts pretty much like yours: A dream. And the obsession to make it become real. Yours was to be Minister of Magic. Mine was to be the most famous Qudditch player in history. I know, I know. Not very modest, but at least I'm being sincere. Something I haven't been in a long while, especially with myself.'

Oliver took another sip of his drink, as if it could encourage him. Percy waited in silence, knowing better than to press the subject.

'Last year, it seemed like I was finally going to make it. I'd started to play in the most important matches, and my name began to be known in Quidditch circles. I was finally becoming someone important.

With my success came money, something like fame (I think my photograph was once in the Prophet and all) and a lot of responsability. But I didn't mind that part. I'd always taken Quidditch seriously'.

Percy repressed a snort. No one doubted it.

'But when the pressure was a little too much, I decided to take a few days off with Celine - you know, my girlfriend back then...'

He nodded, remembering the pretty girl Oliver had introduced him into when they'd ran into each other last winter.

'And then, it happened'.

Percy waited for him to continue, but time passed and the man was making no attempt of finishing his story.

'What happened?'

Oliver sighed, resigned, and went on with his tale.

'We were at the beach, and Celine insisted on swimming. I was never a great swimmer, but I got into the sea anyway. Which was a mistake. See, the sea wasn't exactly peaceful and it seems that I hit my head with a rock or something (I don't remember a shit) and fell unconscious. It took them a long while to get me out of the sea.

At first I felt fine..a little dizzy, but fine. The trouble was when I tried to mount a broom: I couldn't keep my balance. I went straight to St. Mungo's. The diagnostic was clear enough: something had happened to my inner ear, which had ruined my balance' Oliver made a small pause. 'The mediwizard told me that with a little bit of treatment it might be alright. I asked how long it'd take. His answer was six months.'

Percy gasped. Even he, who had no interest in Quidditch whatsoever, understood the implications of Oliver's words. Following the treatment would have meant spending six months without playing - just when Oliver's career was finally getting started. It was doubtful that the Puddlemere United would wait Oliver to return - there were many skilled young players out there, and it was very probable that when the poor boy was finally recovered he found his position had been taken.

'Let me guess' Percy said slowly 'What you did was to hide this from your boss and try to solve the problem on your own?'

Oliver raised his glass in mock celebration.

'How did you guess? Yeah, back then I thought that I could solve it on my own.'

'But, how did you expect t do so? I don't recall you having any experience in Healing.'

A somber, cynical smile curved his lips.

'Well, I found something that could help me. Something called "dragon's eyelids"

Percy's mouth fell open.

'Wait a second...Wasn't illegal for a Quidditch player to use that?'

Oliver raised his chin, in a feeble attempt to look defiant, attempt that soon evaporated, leaving him even more deflated.

'Not exactly. See, there are no laws against it - but it's a little on the immoral side, if you know what I mean'.

Yes, he understood what he meant. After all, he'd grown up with a man that enchanted _muggle_ objects stating that it wasn't illegal, "just not very ethical".

'They caught you'. It wasn't a question, but Oliver answered anyway.

'Yep. It could have been worse, y'know. I wasn't charged or anything, very few people found out about it... But my Quidditch career was over. No team would take me ever.' Oliver sighed. 'You know what's the worst part of it all? That damned mediwizard sent me an owl right afterwards, saying that he'd heard of a treatment in New Zealand that took only three months... but it was already too late.'

Percy knew what that meant. If Oliver had been a little more patient, if he'd been honest with his boss, he might have been able to keep playing Quidditch professionally. However, his own fear of losing his dream had led him to lost it all. It kind of rang a bell.

'And this Celine girl...?'

'I lost her for the same reason all the previous ones left me. She said I was to obsessed with Quidditch to care for her'.

'I see'.

'And Penelope Clearwater? Same reason?'

Percy nodded saddly. It still hurt thinking about her.

'I was too obsessed with work'.

Oliver gave him an understanding nod. 'Women tend to be like that, y'know. It's not like they aren't right, it's just that you'd never hear about a bloke who leaves his girl just because she's too obsessed about make-up. And Merlin, Celine _was_ obsessed'.

Percy gave a feeble laugh, but his heart wasn't on it. He hadn't thought in his ex in a long while, and for some reason that made him to hurt even more.

The time for friendly chat was finally up, as Percy had some business to attend and Oliver had to...well, keep brooding or whatever he did now with his spare time.

'It was good to see you, Percy' Oliver said once they were out the Three Broomsticks. 'I kinda missed talking to someone'.

Percy nodded. He was quite familiar with that feeling himself. Sure, he could always talk to Wesley or Andrew...but it wasn't the same thing. For a start, he hadn't killed his best friend.

'Now, you're sure you'll be alright with that purple bloke?' Oliver asked, sounding just a little concerned. Percy laughed.

'Sure. He was too happy with your autograph to be mad at me'.

'Well, good luck with your new job, then'.

There was something in his voice that made Percy to look up. There was something in the young man's eyes that he couldn't place... Was it envy? Longing? Or just desperation?

'Look, Oliver' he blurted out 'It's not always to be this bad, you know. Things get better. With time'.

The man raised an eyebrow. 'Really? 'Cause in my case, I've been waiting long enough'.

And with that, he disappeared in the never ceasing rain.

During the two following weeks, Percy hadn't much time to think about Oliver Wood. Work was getting truly absorbing, to the point of being suffocating. Or it would have been if Percy had had a life.

As he was the only wizard there (because Andrew's attempts at performing magic always ended in disaster), he always had to do something: check the security spells cast on the building, gather information about Dark wizards's moves, make contacts in Knockturn Alley, perform charms that'd gurarantee the safety of the Slayers-in-training, etc. In short, now he was practically living at the office. Which was just fine with him (he'd really got to hate his flat) but it concerned Wesley, who asked Percy if he didn't know any wizard or witch that might help him.

'Look, things might get worse from now on, and you can't do all on your own. You'll need some help. Do you know someone that might be suitable?'

The problem wasn't finding someone that was suitable, Percy reflected, the problem would be to find someone mad enough to take a job like that.

One morning he was dozing off at his office when that Vi girl greeted him cheerfully:

'Hi, Percy! What're you doing?'

He woke up with a start and tried to sound natural and _awake_.

'Oh, I was just...checking some stuff', he lied. Then he looked at her curiously. 'Shouldn't you be in class or something?'

He regretted saying it at once, when he saw the smile fading from her face. Merlin, he really had to stop acting like Percy the Perfect Prefect. He was starting to feel old.

'I mean, I don't mind company at all' He quickly added. 'You can come in if you want'.

The bright smile returned to her pretty face.

'Good, 'cause I brought something especially for you'

He looked at her, a little bewildered, until he saw her handing him a cup of coffee.

'Oh, Vi, you're an angel, really.'

Her grin became broader as she stepped in.

'I thought you might need it, as you practically live in here'. There was a note of concern in her voice now. 'Percy, do you ever sleep?'

The question was made in such a serious tone that almost made him laugh. 'Yeah, I do-really!' he added, after seeing the slight scowl on her face.

'If you say so... Look, Wesley told me to give you these. Looks like a new assigment'.

She handed him a piece of paper (Percy still preferred using parchment) and he glanced at it. This time, he didn't repressed the groan.

"_Knockturn Alley"_

Somehow, that one always turned out badly.

As he was staring intently to the instructions Wesley'd given him, it was no wonder that he nearly stumbled down someone when he got past the magical wall of bricks. Which was a little more surprising was the person he'd crashed into.

'Percy?'

He looked up and stared at the man before him.

'Oliver?'

It was him, but he couldn't have looked more different. Today his robes were shinningly clean, his face was shaved and he didn't reek of alcohol.

'I've just came from a job interview' Oliver said, answering his unasked question.

'Really? That's great! How did it go?'

Oliver smiled a little.

'Madam Hooch offered me a job at Hogwarts. You know she's getting a little old, and she needs some help with the children. Taking care of the broomsticks, being referee at the matches, teaching the first years how to mount a broom...'

Something in his friend's depressed tone told him that there was something very wrong.

'What's the matter, then?' He asked cautiously. Oliver cast him a desperate look.

'Percy, I need a job, but I'd rather slice my veins open than to take this one'.

Any other person might have not understand what Oliver felt, but Percy did. It would be like being offered the post as the security guard at the Ministry of Magic after being Junior Assistant to the Minister himself. Sometimes a person had to keep her head down, but there was no right to force a person to keep it _that_ down.

Percy looked at Oliver Wood. He'd always been amazed at how different they were. Oliver was shorter but corpulent and well-built, while Percy was lean and skinny. Oliver had a dark complexion, Percy's skin was milky-white with a thousand freckles. Oliver had always been handsome, while Percy...well, he'd just been Percy. Oliver was obsessed with sports, Percy couldn't have cared less, and the same could have been said about Oliver and his grades. He'd only studied enough not to be kicked out from Gryffindor's Quidditch team.

However, this was the only boy Percy had befriended in all his years at Hogwarts. Maybe because they weren't really that different: they both had been uninterested in the stuff that most boys their age were obsessed with, perhaps because they had their own obsessions: Percy had his grades, Oliver his Quidditch. And they both had given up all to chase their dreams...losing everything good they got along the way. Yeah, they were much more alike than he'd first thought. Which gave him an idea...

'Well, Oliver, it seems this is your lucky day' He said cheerfully, putting an arm around his broad shoulders.

'See, I have a very interesting job offer for you...'

* * *

**db**: Thanks for pointing out the "couple" thing, it kind of slipped. Next time I'll bear it in mind. And thanks a lot for reviewing!

**Greenlizard-81**: First of all, thank, _you_ for reviewing. About Percy, I also hope he´s a little bit wiser now, after all that happened. And I guess it will be hard for him to recover from that blow. Only time (and the sixth book) will tell.

**Hearts Corruption**: I'm glad you liked my fic. As for the Weasley´s, I don´t they´ll be mad at Percy for long... After all, they aren´t the Blacks, are they? For some reason, I can´t imagine Arthur disowning one of his children, can you?

A thousand thanks for all the reviews, they've really encouraged me. And if you liked Unwell, you can read its companion piece, "Distorted Mirror", form Wesley's point of view. You'll see it in my profile, in Angel section.


End file.
